It Was Better To Be

We Are Homesick Most For The Places We Have Never Known.

There Was Hope In Him, And Soon Perhaps The Outline Of His Journey Would Take Form.

In The Face Of Brutality I Was Prudent. Before Injustice I Held My Peace. I Sacrificed The Things In Hand For The Good Of The Hypothetical Whole. I Believed In The Tongue Instead Of The Fist. As An Armor Against Oppression I Taught Patience And Faith In The Human Soul. I Know Now How Wrong I Was. I Have Been A Traitor To Myself And To My People. All That Is Rot.

In His Face There Came To Be A Brooding Peace That Is Seen Most Often In The Faces Of The Very Sorrowful Or The Very Wise. But Still He Wandered Through The Streets Of The Town, Always Silent And Alone.

Writing, For Me, Is A Search For God.